


Look alive, boy.

by Demon_Cookie101



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Depression, Eridan is extremely sad, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Sadstuck, mentioned self-harm, self-depreciation, there is a happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 15:21:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7227775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demon_Cookie101/pseuds/Demon_Cookie101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First off: Warning: this fic is rather depressive. If you're sensitive/triggered by self-depreciative thoughts, mentioned self-harm and depression, read at your own caution. Please mind all tags.<br/>Based off of a prompt, which is listed in the notes. </p><p>---<br/>You always knew it would be a no.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Look alive, boy.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this fic is based off of a prompt by Lizardlicks.  
> Link: http://lizardlicks.tumblr.com/post/49161586890/i-have-a-really-terrible-fic-request-but-i-dont  
> If you're unsure whether you want to read this, that prompt has the basic gist of everything.  
> I have put in bold where you can skip if you want to miss all the depressive, Eridan is horribly sad stuff.

His expression changed numerous times in the time you spent talking. When you finish, his expression is set on wary and something awkward. He shifts, fiddling with the bottom of his sweater and you just know that he doesn’t feel the same. If you’re completely honest with yourself, he hasn’t felt anything towards you since… since the meteor.

“I just… wanted to tell you.” You hurry to say, twisting the ring around and around on your thumb and not looking him in the eye. “I don’t expect you to feel the same way, fuck Kar you’ve already had one insane highblood in a quadrant, no reason to even attempt at two.” You offer him an out, and the relief that flicks over his face hurts you. You can see him try and keep a neutral expression, even at the dry chuckle he gives. “I don’t… I just… I wanted you to know, I wanted to tell you, because I’ve found that when I actually do the whole talkin’ about my feelin’s bullshit, they go away pretty quick smart.” True, you ended up dead pretty soon after your last attempt, but oh well. Irrelevant point. “I want you to know so that if I do end up comin’ on to you at all by accident, you know why, and can tell me to fuck off eloquently, and hopefully with less ‘fucks’.”

Karkat nods, still looking relieved that he doesn’t have to pretend to reciprocate anything here, and it hurts. It hurt when he broke the pact with you, it hurt that one time you saw him in the bubbles and saw the disgust on his face, it hurt when you woke up in this new world and saw the expression of utter wariness in his eyes. He doesn’t trust you. He doesn’t want you anywhere near him.

His phone buzzes where it’s on the table beside his hand, and you try not to watch how quickly he jumps for it. The smile that softens his eyes makes you want to cry, and you pretend you’re interested in the cup of tea in front of you.  
“I’ve gotta go.” He says, already getting up out of his chair and pocketing his phone. “Dave…”  
You wave him off, pretending that you don’t feel like shit. “Of course. I’ll talk to you later. There’s literal boxes of books in the hive I’ve got waitin’ to be opened. I’m sure I can share some form of literature with you later.”  
You’re not even sure he’s listening, because he just smiles tightly and hurries out, and it takes every ounce of willpower you have left to wait until he’s completely out of sight before letting yourself slump forward.

This new world is… interesting. Going off of databases and photos you’d found online (because no one would tell you, they’re all too busy to talk to you right now), the world you all came back to, Jade’s concoction or whoever made it all, is more Earthly than Alternian. The seas are beautifully clean, and you’re glad that the place you live in is so close to the seashore. Practically right on it. You want to swim every day, but there’s things even you have to do.

True, they consist mainly of unpacking boxes that you don’t remember owning and trying to find whatever tattered scraps of your courage is left to go apologise to people, but they work as excuses when Feferi comes around and asks whether you’ve been swimming.

She drops by sometimes, and you’re ninety-nine percent sure it’s just to make sure you haven’t done anything dramatic and flamboyant. You pretend you don’t know why she pokes around the place when she thinks you’re not looking, trying to find things that will give her a reason to do… something. Whatever it is she feels she needs to do. You can’t claim that it’s annoying when the fact that she keeps coming around (even if it’s to make sure that you haven’t done something stupid again) makes you think that there’s a chance she’s forgiven you properly and might even want to be your friend again.

You know that she’ll be dropping by again soon, especially if Karkat runs his mouth. Which he most likely will, which will most likely guarantee a visit from Kanaya as well and you might make use of the fact that your new hive has an attic so you can hide like the _fucking wriggler you are._

The house seems cold when you step inside, and despite that fact that it’s closer to the middle of the day than it is to night time (adjusting to the time change was surprisingly easy, and you’ve come to find you like the warmth from the sun), you feel tired enough to want to sleep.

So you do, and you definitely do not cry yourself to sleep over the fact that you pretty much have no friends, and no chance at ever having a palemate again.

 

\-----------------------------

 

When you wake, it’s after dark. You forgot to close both your window and the curtains, so the soft sea breeze fills your room. It’s almost calming. Almost.

Your face feels weird and sticky, and you can only groan and mash your hand against your cheek in a sleepy attempt at whacking yourself around the face. Why did you even cry? You’ve known for a long time that there’s probably never going to be a chance that anyone you have feelings for will return them. You should just change your title from Prince of Hope to... To… The bastard of unrequited feelings. That doesn’t work. There’s no ring to it. But, at least people will know who you are.  
‘Oh yeah remember that guy?’  
‘Who?’  
‘Y’know, the bastard of unrequited feelings.’  
‘Oh, that guy.’

You can’t help but snicker at your own thoughts. It’s inelegant and rough and you feel like you’re gonna cry again. Holy fuck, why are you so prone to relying on whether or not other people return your feelings? You should be used to it by now!

Argh!

Punching the pillow does diddly squat, so you settle for shoving your face against it and growling. It doesn’t make you feel better, but at least you’re doing something and when that something changes into you trying to see how much intonation you can shove into a growl, it takes your mind off of the sour thoughts.

Someone knocks at the front door, and really, at this time of night there’s only gonna be a few options as to who it is. You don’t want to talk to any of them.

The knocking gets persistent, so you sigh and haul yourself from the bed. You stretch, because you’re still half hoping that whoever it is will leave. They don’t, so you keep walking, rubbing at your eyes and opening the door with a frown.

Of course it’s Kanaya.

She merely looks at you, one brow arched up delicately. For a second you wish you’d kept up with drawing from your stupid I-believe-in-magic-and-creating-things phase because she’s all straight lines and soft angles. When you zone back in she’s looking expectantly at you, and whoops, you just missed out on everything she said.  
“… huh?”  
She sighs, and you bristle a little, because it’s not like she _needs_ to be here. She can just go home and leave you alone. “I asked whether you planned on doing anything obnoxiously drastic since you’ve been turned down yet again.”  
You almost shut the door in her face. “Oh fuck off. I wasn’t expectin’ any returned feelin’s. I only told him that so that if I end up comin’ onto him for whatever reason he knows why and can tell me to fuck off solidly instead of half-heartedly like everyone else does.”

She just blinks at you, and yeah, it’s probably not a very good reason, but you’re not too fussed right not. You lean against the door frame, rubbing a hand over your face. “You honestly think I’m gonna want to cause trouble this quickly into this life? I had to tell him, okay? I didn’t want somethin’ to happen like last time. I didn’t want to sit on my emotions again until they strangle me and everyone around me. Got it? Just leave me alone. I don’t need you stickin’ your nose into this business.”

Kanaya looks at you like you’ve grown a second head, and no, you’ve just sort of let your quieter, more logical head take over for a second. “Well, if that’s what you believe, then I see no reason to stick around and educate you on why it would be a bad idea to try and force anyone into a quadrant again.”

You think you’re justified enough to slam the door in her face.

 

\-----------------------------

 

A week passes, and you bury yourself in books. The human ones are much better than Alternian ones in regards to friendships and romance and humour, but the Alternian ones are still the best when it comes to the detail put into the ships and cruisers and freighters. Simply stunning, though the human history books about pirates show some pretty cool sailing ships as well. It makes you want to own one.

The books actually help. You can lose yourself in the stories, but as soon as you finish a book you’re left with your thoughts and having to go outside and see Karkat duck into random buildings just to avoid you and see the other trolls and humans, you used to speak with pretend not to see you whenever you walk by.

It hurts, and you end up buying more and more books just so that you don’t stop reading.

It’s pretty much your equivalent of Gamzee’s pies.

Reading becomes almost like a chore after you make that startling discovery, and you have to force yourself to read so that you don’t end up dwelling on the fact that pretty much everyone you’ve ever known wishes you hadn’t been brought back into the new world.

 

\-----------------------------  **(Skip if need be)**

 

You don’t know how long it’s been since your short talk with Kanaya, but you’re currently four books into an Earth series about dragons, humans and some short angry man called Napoleon. Outwardly, you’re pretty sure that you haven’t changed a single bit. No, you’re definitely sure that you haven’t shown any sign that you’re so fucking affected by the shit you thought you could handle.

Karkat… he even messaged you two books in, stating that he was glad that you’d grown up a little, and that you weren’t being such a shit about it all.

It made you so angry, and you just wanted to reach through your screen and shake him, screaming that you’re not okay, you’re hurting because no one talks to you unless you talk to them first and even then they always make excuses to get away and you know that you did wrong, you know it you so fucking know it but they don’t understand that you’ve changed and it hurts. It hurts it hurts it _hurts-_

At least this way, you’re only going to take yourself out when you inevitably self-destruct.

You’re almost looking forward to that moment, because then you can stop hurting. It’s probably not healthy to think like that, but who else are you going to ask for opinion? No one talks to you but you.

 

\-----------------------------

 

Days blend into nights, and books lie in abandoned heaps around you. You can’t read anymore. You pick up a book and after a few chapters your mind wanders and you abandon the book to pick up another. Your safety net is gone; your distraction is gone. Dimly, you realise you’re hungry, and go looking for something to eat. The fridge is empty save for a few carrots, but even they look bad. That means you have to go outside again and buy food and you can’t even summon up the energy to get changed into different clothes.

If past you had known this is how you would have turned out, he’d have probably kept his stupid mouth shut.

You’re a mess. You know you’re a mess, you’ve admitted, outloud, while you stared at the sunken pits your eyes have become in the mirror, that you’re more of a mess now than you’ve ever been.

This is worse than the meteor.

You eat when you remember, and when you have food.

You haven’t swum in… however many days it’s been now. You know it’s definitely been at least a two weeks since you spoke with Kanaya, but you’re not too sure how long it really has been. You’ve been so focused on burying yourself in fantasy worlds that you haven’t kept check of what’s going on outside.

It’s like you’re back in the bubbles. No one visits, you feel like you’ve been ripped in half and shoddily put back together and you swear you’re seeing angels in the dark corners of your house.

You want to die, but you don’t want to go through the pains of doing it. You want to disappear, but you don’t want to prove them all right by doing so. You want to stop existing, but you’re too much of a coward to do more than hide in books and pretend you’re righter than rain.

You’re going crazy and you can’t stop it and everything hurts and still, _still_ , you feel fucking _pale for that asshole._

It doesn’t go away and all you want to do is hold him close and do things you should have done when you had a fucking moirail instead of trying to force her into a quadrant she would have never fitted in.

You don’t realise you’ve been staring blankly at the contents of the fridge until it starts beeping at you. Its irritating, loud, consistent and it snaps you out of the daze your thoughts continuously suffocate you in.

It feels like far too much effort than it really is to shut the fridge, and then you’re sitting on the ground, back pressed uncomfortably to the cabinets behind you. You look like a doll who’s strings have been slashed, sitting there with your chin to your chest and legs just flopping about. It makes you laugh, high and desperate and frantic and then you can’t stop.

Your laughter becomes sobs and you curl up on yourself, fisting your hands in your messy, oily hair and just… cry.

 

\-----------------------------

 

The time goes fuzzy. You know it hasn’t been more than a few hours since you dropped onto the floor, but how long it’s been exactly? You have no idea. Your horns are hurting, and so is your scalp. Your claws feel cracked and dry and there’s a sort of rhythmic pounding in your head. It sends you into laughter again, because if you think about it, you can imagine that it’s someone knocking on your hive door and wanting to talk to you.

You feel like you’re lying over the edge of a cliff, staring down into the dark swirling abyss below. Your legs are firmly on the ground, your bare feet digging into the soil and holding on. You’re teetering, and something that sounds suspiciously like six-sweep-old you is crying and telling you not to do it again, not to let go.

You let go, and you’re smiling as you fall down. Oh well. It’s not like you have a reason to be in this world.

There’s nothing here to hunt.

You’re almost at the dark swirling waters that linger in your mind’s eye. Your kitchen floor looks hazy, wobbly, and oddly violet. There’s splattering’s of it, like you decided to get some paints or something equally stupid and frilly and dot it everywhere. Your face hurts, and there’s a wetness to your cheeks that you don’t remember being there earlier. Your horns feel like you went one on one against a brick wall, and you wonder if you’re dying.

There’s something warm on your face now, guiding you to lift your head up, and now there’s more colours in the mix. For a second you think it might be Karkat, because that really is a bright red. Or maybe Dave, he has mutant eyes, right?

But no, there’s too many colours there. Blue as well, and stupid horns.

You can’t seem to focus enough to figure out who it is, and fuck knows where your glasses went. Your gaze is sliding all over the place, and briefly, you think that you’re flying. Maybe you ingested sopor by accident, because this really isn’t normal.

Your head jerks to the right when the pretty lights above your head slaps you, hard. Ow. You hiss, but it sounds rattly, hoarse… wrong.

“Eridan.” Wait fuck, that actually is a troll holding you up. It’s not in your head. It’s not an angel in the shape of a troll either, because the eyes aren’t brimmed with white. You blink sluggishly, the weakness that’s overtaken your limbs making your head droop. For a second, it looks like your hands are covered in rust, and then they’re covered in fuchsia, and then your own violet. Maybe you’re still lost in your head.

Sollux shakes you, but it’s not rough like you’d expect. He’s just jostling your shoulder, getting your attention to lift your head back up. It’s too much effort and you stare at him.

You wonder who sent him, because there’s no way he would have come of his own accord. There is absolutely no way any of them would come of their own accord. The swirling darkness in your head is calling you, you can hear it, and you really really just want to sink into it and float away. It’s the same sort of darkness that you felt overtake you on the meteor, but this time it’s not fuelled by anger and fear. It’s softer, like it’s okay for you to curl up in it and just sleep.

You want it so badly you ache. You want to curl up in it and sleep and sleep and just never wake up. It’ll be days before anyone realises they haven’t seen you around, and by then you’ll be gone.

You’re still staring at Sollux, but you can’t see him. You’re looking through him, eyes unfocused even as stupid tears well up and slide down your cheeks. He doesn’t sigh like you thought he would, and then you’re flying again, your body moving for you. You can feel his hand on your face, his thumb against your temple, and his eyes are the last thing you see.

 

\-----------------------------  **(Skip over)**

 

When you wake again, your thoughts are much clearer. You’re wrapped up in something warm and soft, and when you turn to look for your glasses and get out of this sopor, you see them neatly folded on the table. You can’t move your hands though, and when you look down, you realise you’re wrapped up tightly in blankets, not in sopor.

Your glasses lift off the table in a crackle of red and blue, and settle gently on your face. The world comes into focus again, and you blink foggily at Sollux. He’s sitting cross-legged on the other end of the couch, resting his chin on his hand and watching you with careful eyes.

You don’t really know what to say, despite the questions swirling around your head.

What is he doing here?

Why is he here?

Who found out that you were breaking apart at the seams?

Your throat is dry and it makes your words croaky, but you gave up on yourself many days ago, so you don’t really care. “Who sent you?”  
“No one did, I heard you in my head.”  
Oh. “Oh.” Your head is pounding; a dull ache that only grows with the more attention you give it. “Why did you come?”  
The weird look he gives you just leaves you in more confusion. You don’t know why he’s here. You don’t know why he would care.

Sure, you both shared a body and a mind and learnt disturbing ass shit about each other you could have probably done without knowing.

(You know what it feels like to be pitied wholly by Feferi.)  
(You know what it feels like to have psionics curl under your skin.)

(You know what it feels like to be wanted.)

You and Sollux haven’t spoken since you both reappeared in this world. He hasn’t had time, since he and Rose’s gun-loving mum-sister-person-thing are intent on knowing absolutely everything about the network system on this planet.

“Eridan I heard you in my head. I heard you sobbing in my head, why do you think I’m here?” He looks at you like you’ve lost your mind, and you did. It’s probably still lying on the kitchen floor somewhere.  
“… So?” He sighs exasperatedly, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Eridan you were dying.”  
You feel a little miffed now, because you finally get around to crumbling and he has to show up and pretend he cares. “Again, so? You didn’t have to do anything.”  He has both hands in his hair now, and you can see you’re irritating him. It doesn’t bring you the same satisfaction as it used to.

“Everyone knows Karkat turned you down. Everyone’s been waiting for you to throw a fit and do what you normally do, but anyone who’s come by to make sure you haven’t killed anyone else just finds you reading. It’s been weeks and you’ve been pretty much normal and then I hear you in my head. Eridan, you’re not allowed to die.”  
“Says who.” You shoot back, your throat absolutely killing (hah) you. “You? What do you care, I’m nothin’ to you. I don’t mean anythin’ to any of you.” Everything hurts, and you’ve got a splitting headache.

Briefly, you wonder if you got Sollux’s self-loathing on top of your own, because he doesn’t look as grumpy as he usually does.

Or maybe that’s just because you’re all out of the game.

You sigh, coughing a little and grimacing at the raspy sound of your throat. “You should have just left me. At least this way I wasn’t goin’ to take anyone else out. No one else would be hurt. Now you’ve just gone and stuck your fuckin’ foot in it and now it’s just gonna get worse.”

“It’s not.” He looks a little smug, like he’s just figured out an impossible bit of code or something (so many numbers and commands and they make sense now, your mind is taken up with useless computer babble). “I’m goin’ to help you.”  
“By what, offin’ me yourself? Finish off what you tried to do last time? Ain’t got no science wand here Sol, free shots all around.” He looks briefly disturbed, and you just lean back in the blankets, shivering a little.  
“You’re a right piece of shit. Eridan, I’m offerin’, _offering_ to go pale.”

You laugh. You can’t help it. Who the fuck would want to go pale with you?

(Though, at the same time… It feels logical. He knows you, inside and out. You know him. He knows how you tick, how you think, what winds you up. You know what hurts, what irritates, what calms him down. It’s perfectly logical, and you honestly feel like you can go pale with him. Being a sprite just showed you how fucked up he was, and the memory of the migraines that he has just makes your pusher ache. It could work.)

“I’m not pale for you though,” you lie through your teeth, staring blankly at him. “It won’t work.”  
“I think you are. And I think you’re afraid to agree. You think I’m just doing this because someone has to, don’t you.”  
Your fins bristle and you scowl at him. “No I’m not. I’m not pale for you.” You are, you are, _fuck_. Why can you never spot feelings until they’re rearing above your head and covering you in misery?

“You can’t lie to me ED. I know you feel at least something for me. I shouldn’t feel jack shit for you, especially after everything you’ve done, but being a sprite…” he lets the sentence trail off, and you know what he means.

“It won’t work, Sol. I can’t…. I can’t do a pale quad again. I’m only good at fuckin’ them up. I shouldn’t have even said anythin’ to Kar, but I thought it would help. I thought it would all go away if I talked about it.” You sound more desperate than you want to, and scrub your hands furiously over your face. “I just can’t, alright? Besides, didn’t you pick up again with Aradia?”  
He shook his head, moving so that he’s sitting next to you and stretching his legs out to rest on the short table.

“You need help, Eridan. I found you giggling deliriously with your claws near enough embedded in your horns. You’re going to have scratch marks forever now.” That explains whatever’s wrapped around your horns. You scowl at your feet, hunching your shoulders a little.  
“I don’t want a pale mate.” The lie has never felt more sour on your tongue.  
“This isn’t about whether you want one or not. You _need_ one. You’re going to hurt yourself even more without one.” His tone isn’t gentle; you would have thought he were mocking you if his tone was gentle. But, there’s something… caring in the way he speaks to you. He still sounds like he thinks you’re being the biggest idiot this side of the galaxy… but there’s something more.  
“I will not be the reason for your death, Sollux. Just drop it and leave me alone.” You feel even more miserable now than you did earlier, and you don’t know why. Sollux is talking complete sense. You need someone to take care of you, to be the calm when the storms are too much. You wanted Karkat, because you’ve always felt that if anyone understood being misunderstood, it would be him. But he doesn’t want you anywhere near him.

You care for Sollux; you feel a mish-mashed jumble of _everything_ for Sollux. But you just… you don’t want this one to end like your last did.

“Neither you nor Feferi were good moirails to each other. You caused too much trouble and didn’t reciprocate too often, she ended up seeing you as a chore and stopped listening when you needed her too. It takes two to have a moirallegiance, fish face, and you both were pretty shitty. All highbloods are shitty in quadrants. Especially pale, because you’re all self-important dickbags who have their heads stuck so far up their asses their horns constitute for most of their organ space.” You snort despite yourself, because it’s pretty much true.  
“I am being legitimately serious here, ED. And trust me, this is just as fucking weird for me as it is for you, because who would have ever guessed that being shoved in a sprite with some stupid, tight-ass violet-blood would bring this shit about?” He looks…. He looks almost earnestly at you, or as earnest as Sollux is capable of being. He’s barely insulted you since he arrived, and it’s really, really weirding you out, but he’s right. Being a sprite gave you both advantages in regards to each other.

You’re not sure you can lose him too when he gets sick of you.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” You say, and then pull a weird face, because when had that statement become true? Sollux sighs, and raises a hand to knock gently against your forehead.  
“Are you even paying attention? Is anything working up there or did you really leave your mind behind on the floor? I can help you. I can make sure that if you do hurt me in the way you’ve hurt others before, you’ll understood why you fucked up and I can help you get past the utter misery it will throw you in.”

When you look up at him again, he shifts his hand to cup your jaw, his thumb rubbing gently along the bone. “Trust me, Eridan.”

You study his eyes, and sigh.

 

\-----------------------------

Karkat is the first troll you see when you finally do end up going outside again. Granted, he was the one who was walking past, as you were already seated at a coffee shop. You didn’t notice him at all until he stopped next to your table.  He’s holding hands with Dave, and has a confused expression on his face.

The pang echoes through your bones, but when it normally would have continued to resonate, it simply fades as Sollux nudges your leg under the table. He grumpily telling Karkat to fuck off, because he’s in the middle of a very important conversation and doesn’t want to be interrupted.

You grin, fins flicking as you turn back to Sollux and rest your chin on you hand. Sollux had found that Earth games were far more fun than Alternian ones, and he managed to get you hooked. Unfortunately for him, you’re an expect at battle strategy and combination match-ups. “Nekkoala is goin’ t’ be far better than Iwanko, you obviously don’t know how to choose your types, Sol.”

He flicks a balled up bit of paper at you, but then he glances at Karkat, and you simply flick your fins again. Dismissive. It’s done. It’s over with.

And you’re okay with that.

**Author's Note:**

> Also that new album is awesome.  
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
